TREBELL. Here's somebody coming.

AMY O'CONNELL. Oh!...

TREBELL. What does it matter?

AMY O'CONNELL. I'm untidy or something....

_She slips out, for they are close to the window. The_ FOOTMAN
_enters, stops suddenly._

THE FOOTMAN. I beg your pardon, sir. I thought everyone had gone.

TREBELL. I've just been for a walk. I'll lock up if you like.

THE FOOTMAN. I can easily wait up, sir.

TREBELL. [_At the window._] I wouldn't. What do you do ... just slide the
bolt?

THE FOOTMAN. That's all, sir.

TREBELL. I see. Good-night.

THE FOOTMAN. Good-night, sir.

_He goes._ TREBELL'S _demeanour suddenly changes, becomes alert, with
the alertness of a man doing something in secret. He leans out of the
window and whispers._